The Reality of Monsters
by Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein
Summary: ."My husband was a monster. My son was a monster. What else did I have left?" The story of Jocelyn Fairchild - the wide-eyed girl who became Jocelyn Fray.
1. Part One: Black Wedding

**Part One – Black Wedding**

_"Black Wedding" by Meg & Dia_

_You were unaware that diamonds came with debt  
Ironic, sure, but that's the way it is, got my vows off the internet  
You say, "Crying weakens my immune system"  
But don't forget that if you pray for me,  
I'll pray for you, and cash flow too, why not?  
I said, "If you pray for me,  
I'll pray for you, and cash flow too, why not?"_

It was a black wedding, you could hear the organs  
Not the violins or the words the Pope was saying, was a black wedding  
You could hear the organs but, no drunken snoring or real hallelujahs  
Dumb people swore they saw the devil  
While most prayed they wouldn't last a winter  
It was a black wedding, throw those blessings all around

So, you're finally viewing this at 5 foot 6  
It's not all "roses" like your momma said  
We're not spoon fed anymore  
So you gonna tell, all our kids I was an "accident"  
Ironic, true, but that's the way you act, when you're upset, so let's take this outside  
We see our mirrors from outside  
And he said, "We are only pride  
We stay hidden all our lives."

It was a black wedding you could hear the organs  
Not the violins or the words the Pope was saying, was a black wedding  
You could hear the organs but, no drunken snoring or real hallelujahs  
Dumb people swore they saw the devil  
While most prayed they wouldn't last a winter  
It was a black wedding, throw those blessings all around

What else is there to know when your Bible's here?  
What else is there to know when your Bi_ble's here?  
There are no lies to find when the page is bare  
What else is there to know when your tax is shared?_

Outside, we see our mirrors from outside  
And he said, "We are only pride  
We stay hidden all our lives"

It was a black wedding you could hear the organs play  
_Words the Pope was saying, was a black wedding  
You could hear the organs not, no drunken snoring or real hallelujah  
The Grave digger said, "It's this cathedral"  
They drank holy water like animals at supper  
It was a black wedding, throw those blessings all around  
(What else is there to know when your bible's here?)  
It was a black wedding, throw those blessing all around  
(What else is there to know when your tax is shared?)  
It was a black wedding, throw those blessings all around  
_


	2. First Interaction

**First Interaction – Jocelyn – 1987**

Papers flew and snickers erupted as I tripped over a jutted-out chair leg and fell to my knees. Quickly, I collected my papers, high color flooding my face, and tried to ignore everyone who was laughing at me. I reached for a notebook that was sitting by a black shoe, but the owner of the shoe bent down to retrieve it for me. A pale hand was thrust in front of me, notebook in its grasp. Knowing who the hand belonged to but still wanting to see, I looked up into Valentine Morgenstern's face.

"Thanks," I mumbled, taking the notebook from Valentine and shoving it into my bag, along with the assorted papers that my fall had sent flying.

"My pleasure," said Valentine. His voice was hypnotic and persuasive; I could see why he had so many friends. He extended his hand out to me, and I took it, using it to pull myself up. "Take care of yourself, Jocelyn Fairchild." Then he was gone, leaving me slightly confused and dazed.

When school let out for the day, I went to find my best friend, Lucian Graymark. Luke and I had been best friends as far back as I could remember, and Luke knew everything about me there was to know. He probably knew me better than I knew myself. "Luke!" I cried, finding him in the crowd. I shoved a few people aside and reached Luke.

He grinned, face lighting up, when he saw me. "Hi, Jocelyn!" he said cheerfully. "What's up?"

"You'll never believe who talked to me," I spilled. I wasn't sure how Luke would react to this news. Neither Luke nor I had ever been part of Valentine's trusted group, though neither of us condemned that group either. They were all people we'd known since we were children: Maryse Trueblood, Robert Lightwood, Hodge Starkweather, Michael Wayland. But secretly, I thought it was a little stupid. Maryse, Robert, Hodge, and Michael all hero-worshipped Valentine, like some fan club.

"Who?" Luke asked curiously.

"Valentine Morgenstern," I revealed. "I tripped over a chair, because I'm a klutz like that, and I dropped a notebook, and Valentine got it for me and said, 'Take care of yourself, Jocelyn Fairchild.' What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Luke's face flickered from a hard edge to thoughtfulness. "Sounds ominous," he told me. "Makes it sound like he's some sort of murderer."

"Valentine? A murderer?" I looked at Luke incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I am, relax," laughed Luke. "What kind of weirdo says that to a girl, though? 'Take care of yourself.' Admit it, it is creepy."

"A little bit, but—"

"You admit it! I win!" cheered Luke. I smacked him across the shoulder, and Luke rubbed the spot theatrically. "Jesus, you hit hard for a girl!" I whacked him again, this time for adding "for a girl."

Luke and I, like everyone else, lived on campus. They were schooled at the Jonathan Shadowhunter Institute, or just the JSI, named for the very first Shadowhunter, the man the angel Raziel had given the Mortal Cup to. The JSI was located in the capital city of Idris, Alicante, and we had been sent there when we were thirteen to study Shadowhunting. The JSI was like a boarding school for in-training Nephilim.

Luke and I split when Luke said he had to go study for their runes history test in his room. I felt horrible for him—I knew he struggled. He couldn't learn quickly like I could, he couldn't stand the touch of the stele. It must be awful for him, I thought. I wished I knew how to make him feel better. But emotional issues weren't my strong point, and so it was awkward, on that front at least.

I didn't know where to go next, so I headed back to my room, too. I was more natural at Shadowhunting than Luke, so I required less studying, but it couldn't hurt to study some. My roommate, Madeleine Morgenstern, was there already. Madeleine was Valentine's younger sister, but she completely abhorred her brother. She said that underneath that perfect, handsome exterior was a murderer, a horrible man. I thought that Madeleine was perhaps being a little bit melodramatic. How could a seventeen-year-old boy be a murderer? But I liked Madeleine well enough, and the two of them got along.

"Hi, Jocelyn." Madeleine barely looked up from her book. She was studying for the runes history test, too.

"Everyone's studying for runes history," I noted, wondering if I should get out my book now or procrastinate and cram tomorrow morning.

"It's going to be killer," Madeleine replied, glancing up at me. Madeleine had the same silver-blonde hair as Valentine, but while Valentine's eyes were a striking black, Madeleine's were a soothing hazel. "We have to know, like, thirty runes off the top of our heads."

"Crap," I grumbled. I flopped down onto my bed, reaching for my bag and pulling out my runes history textbook and notebook. With a short jolt, I realized that it was my runes history notebook that Valentine had retrieved for my. _Come on, Jocelyn_, I thought harshly, _you have better things to do than pine after some popular boy. Guys like Valentine don't go for girls like you_. I immersed myself in runes history, trying to ignore the world around my.

****

**First Interaction – Luke – 1987**

I tried to memorize runes' names and symbols, cram them into my head, but it seemed impossible. Everything seemed impossible, to my great dismay. I _had_ to pass this test, or else I was pretty much screwed over. My roommate, Jonathan Brokenstar, was still out somewhere, which was probably best. I didn't want him to see me struggle.

There came three short raps at the door, sending my heart pounding erratically. It wasn't Jonathan, because he had a key. I curiously swung the door open. And stood face to face with Valentine Morgenstern.

I couldn't help it. I was completely shocked. I blurted, "Valentine _Morgenstern_?" in a deeply incredulous tone.

Valentine laughed once, a low, breathy sound. "Hello, Lucian." I blinked, raising my eyebrows in surprise. Not only was Valentine Morgenstern at my door, he knew my name, too.

"Um, it's Luke, actually," I corrected quickly.

"I will call you Lucian. The name suits you," Valentine insisted. He was big, broad-shouldered and muscled, with hair so pale blonde it was nearly white.

"Lucian works," I agreed. I resisted the urge to ask, "What the hell are you doing here?" Instead, I rocked back onto his heels and waited for Valentine to answer my unspoken question.

"You need some help in runes history, correct?" Valentine asked in a clipped tone.

I flushed. It was embarrassing that even Valentine knew how badly I was doing in school. But since Valentine had asked, I assumed that he was offering help. "Yes," I answered. "I do, actually."

"Well, Lucian," Valentine's lips curved up, "I am exactly the right man to help you."


	3. The Fan Club

**The Fan Club – Jocelyn – 1987**

After I had finished taking the runes history test, I ran into Luke in the hall. "Make sure you know the name for the unlocking rune," I advised, hoping I was helping and not hurting.

"_Helante_," Luke recited. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I shouldn't have showed my surprise so much, though. I think it hurt Luke's feelings. "Is it so weird that I know something school-related?"

"I'm so proud of you! That must have been some serious studying you did," I said, trying to make up for my overt shock before.

"Actually, Valentine helped me," Luke admitted. "He asked if I needed tutoring, and I accepted. He was really nice to me, Jocelyn."

"Valentine?" I asked incredulously. This was just getting weirder by the minute. "Really?" It sounded awful just thinking it, but I didn't think Valentine was the type to hang out with struggling Shadowhunters. It seemed out-of-place, picturing Luke's friendly, warm face with Valentine's cold, aloof one.

"Yeah." Luke eyed me strangely. "The way he put it made total sense to me. I guess I just needed to hear it differently than how the professors say. He said that he'd tutor me in every subject until I improved. Isn't that nice?"

"Yeah," I said, injecting fake agreement into my tone. "Nice. Well," I said briskly, changing the subject, "good luck on the test. I gotta get going. Talk to you later." Then, without waiting for Luke's answer, I shoved through the crowd to advanced demonology class, my books secured in my bag (I still hadn't forgotten the tripping incident of yesterday).

I was one of the first people to arrive in the classroom. I slid into an empty seat and watched as other people trickled into the classroom, as Professor Blackshadow gathered her tools and prepared to teach. But even when she started, I wasn't paying attention. I thought about Valentine helping Luke—and Hodge, Robert, Maryse, and Michael. All of them, Luke included, had never been popular. Hodge was a bookish kid, and I doubted he'd ever really had a regular conversation with anybody. Robert couldn't stand Marks—they scared him to death. Maryse was relatively normal, and had had friends, too, until her brother had married a mundane and left the Clave. And Michael just had never been good-looking enough to be able to make friends. Add in Luke with his struggles, and you had a full-blown help-support club.

That's when I realized what Valentine was doing. It was nothing sinister at all. It was just a help group. Valentine was helping these kids, and however condescending the gesture seemed to me, it was just him trying to be nice. I tried to calm down about him helping Luke out. Valentine was just being helpful. It was still odd, though, how each of the members of his  
little group hero-worshipped Valentine, as if he were the greatest thing since God and TV. I fervently hoped Luke wouldn't get like that.

After class, it was lunchtime. I walked alone, planning to meet up with Luke when I got there. But someone tapped me on the shoulder on the way. I whirled, seeing Valentine's face. "Hello, Jocelyn," he said with a smile.

"Hey," I replied. It sounded off against Valentine's formal tone.

"I met your friend Lucian yesterday," Valentine told me. My brow furrowed. No one called him Lucian anymore. When I tried, he would smack me on the shoulder. So why was Valentine allowed?

"Oh," I said lamely. "Yeah. He told me."

"Did he?" Valentine sounded amused. "The poor boy can't keep his grades up. I assure you, Jocelyn, he will definitely improve with my tutelage."

"I bet," I responded earnestly. Then I frowned. "Look, Valentine, I'd love to talk, but I told Luke I'd meet him at lunch, and—"

"That's funny," Valentine interrupted, although the amused tone had dropped. "Lucian assured me he would be free to eat with me."

My eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Oh, really?" I was pissed that Luke had made double plans. It looked like I'd be getting the short stick. "I guess he forgot. Well, tell him to come find me after lunch, okay?"

"Of course," Valentine assured me. "I'll pass on the message. Anything for you." He smiled widely, showing straight teeth that were nearly painfully white, before speeding forward, and leaving me paused on the sidewalk.

Odd. "Anything for you." What was that supposed to mean? It was his second cryptic parting message in less than twenty-four hours. Did Valentine like me? It seemed impossible. I was just average Jocelyn Fairchild, not the kind of girl who attracted the attention of the likes of Valentine Morgenstern. And he said he'd tell Luke to meet me, which was helpful.

But something didn't surprise me when Luke never showed up to talk to me. I already knew I was losing Luke to Valentine, and what was worse was that I couldn't do anything about it.

****

**The Fan Club – Madeleine – 1987**

Jocelyn came into the room around five, looking murderous. I didn't ask her what was wrong. "For the love of the Angel," she fumed, obviously talking to herself. Then she seemed to notice me for the first time. "Hi, Madeleine," she greeted halfheartedly, the hard edge in her voice not softening. "Sorry. Ignore me. Just talking to myself."

"That's okay." I looked up from the novel, flipping it upside down. I found mundane novels interesting. I liked reading about the lives of ordinary mundies, finding out how utterly oblivious they really were to the Shadow World and all that existed with it. "Is it Valentine?"

"How did you know?" Jocelyn looked up at me, startled.

"My brother does that to people," I said knowingly. "What did he do?"

"He stole Luke from me." Jocelyn's fists clenched at her sides as she threw her bag down. She looked like she was ready to kill something.

"Another addition to his stupid fan club?" I sympathized. Jocelyn and Luke Graymark were pretty much thisclose. Leave it to stupid Valentine to tear apart a perfectly good friendship.

"Luke blew me off at lunch to go eat with Valentine, and then when I asked him to come talk to me, he didn't show up," Jocelyn recounted, her eyebrows turning down in fury. "I'm not so mad at Valentine as I am at Luke. It's like he has to pick between the two of us."

"I don't think Luke has much of a choice," I murmured.

"What?" Jocelyn's eyes whipped at me.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Nothing at all."

* * *

**Madeleine being Valentine's sister wasn't my idea. it was the. other. mirror's. so sorry, Carrie, for taking your idea.**


	4. Watching, Waiting

**Watching, Waiting – Jocelyn – 1987**

When I heard my name being called, I didn't turn around. The only person who would be calling me would be Luke, and I didn't want to talk to him at this point. I picked up the pace, my brisk walking sure to outrun Luke. But then a hand fell onto my shoulder, and I jumped. "Oh my God, Luke!" I whirled around, ready to tell him off, when I realized it wasn't Luke at all, but Valentine.

"I'm sorry, did you think I was Lucian?" Valentine asked, a smile twisting his lips up.

"Guess," I snapped, turning on my heel and stalking off. But Valentine's hand was still firmly planted on my shoulder, holding me in place.

"Going somewhere, Jocelyn?" Valentine's voice was teasing as he pulled me back to look at him.

I glared. "As a matter of fact, Valentine, yes," I informed him shortly. "Not everyone wants to hang out with you every minute of the day, you know."

Valentine chuckled. "Lucian seems to want to."

"You're an asshole," I said between gritted teeth. His words hit me right where I'm sure he wanted them to, and I made my glare more malevolent. "Let go of me!" I slapped at his hand, trying to get his iron grip to release me.

His face softened, the hand on my shoulder softly fading. "I'm sorry, Jocelyn," he apologized, and to my surprise, he sounded sincere. "I...I..." I had never seen Valentine at a loss for words before, but here he was, stammering out a string of "I"s long enough to make me interrupt.

"You what?" I challenged.

Abruptly, Valentine turned and walked away, his strides long and purposeful. Then I saw Maryse's long black hair, giving her away. She stood by Robert, Hodge, and Michael, watching Valentine's return.

Standing behind them was Luke, his eyes not on Valentine, but on me.

_****_

**Watching, Waiting – Valentine – 1987**

The news came almost immediately.

My mother had a warlock create a portal for her right away, discerning the cost, and came to tell my sister and I.

"Valentine, Madeleine, your father is dead."

The red Marks came after, and then the story came out.

Father was just doing a routine inspection of a werewolf encampment. But words turned into arguments turned into fighting, and in the middle of it all, my father was killed. By a filthy Downworlder, a _werewolf_. He was so much better than that. I expected him to die fighting, be brought down saving a friend, to nobly go killing a demon. But that wasn't the case. It was a Downworlder that got him in the end.

After that, I decided something. It wasn't just certain Downworlders that were the real problem. It was all of them. Every single Downworlder was a slimy, dirty beast that needed immediate and swift annihilation.

With Lucian, Maryse, Hodge, Michael, and Robert in the palm of my hand, I was sure I could accomplish just that.

* * *

**sorry, this chapter's pretty short. but review anyway!**


	5. Stranger to Your Sympathy

**Stranger to Your Sympathy – Jocelyn – 1987**

It was late when Madeleine tiptoed into our room. I heard her come in and considered talking to her, but I decided against it. She was probably upset, having just returned from the funeral of her father, and I would be able to catch her when it wasn't past midnight. I rolled over, sheets rustling, and fell back asleep.

When I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the sheer curtains, and it was nine in the morning. "Crap!" I cried. Madeleine was gone—nice of her to wake me up—and if I didn't get my ass moving to class in ten minutes, I was most likely dead.

I changed quickly, my fleece pants and tank top exchanged for a pair of dark jeans and a jacket. My hair was a not-to-be-tamed mess, and it ended up wound in a bun on the nape of my neck. I skipped breakfast, although my stomach growled in protest, and literally ran to class. It was 9:09, and I was three feet away from the door, when I heard the sounds of muffled sobs.

Who wouldn't be in class at this point? Weirder still, who would be crying instead of being in class at this point? I debated internally. Should I check and see what was wrong with the Mystery Crier? Or should I go to class? I picked the latter, sliding into the doorway just as the final bell rang. _Safe_.

Guilt racked through me the entire class, though. I made up my mind then to find the Mystery Crier and see what was up, class be damned. I loitered in the hallway until everyone had gone to class, then waited. I heard the cries, sounding heartbroken and lost, and followed the sound until I was in front of a utility closet. I knocked softly on the door, the final bell ringing behind me. "Hello?" I asked gently.

The crying ceased instantaneously. "Who's there?" The voice was male, a hitch in his tone. I realized right away who was in there, sobbing for his lost father.

"Hi, Valentine. It's Jocelyn."  
The door opened a crack. "Jocelyn?" Valentine murmured, peering at me. I could see his red-rimmed black eyes through the sliver of light he permitted through, sizing me up. And then he pulled the door fully open and yanked me in.

"Are you okay?" I asked Valentine as he shut the door behind me. Which was a very stupid question. Of course Valentine wasn't okay. His father had just died. _Ask a more insensitive question, Jocelyn, why don't you?_

"Can't you tell?" said Valentine.

"Okay, I deserved that," I admitted. "Why are you in a closet?"

"Because I can't cry in public," answered Valentine simply. There was a suppressed choke in his tone, one that completely awakened my sympathy.

"Come here," I whispered impulsively. And the great Valentine Morgenstern fell into my arms, crying. It never occurred to me that the tears might not just be for loss, but also for a deep longing.

****

**Stranger to Your Sympathy – Madeleine – 1987**

The JSI grapevine was practically out of their minds with excitement at a new piece of gossip. Jocelyn Fairchild and Valentine Morgenstern were together! They'd skipped second period together to go make out in a closet was what I'd heard. I tried to not let that fact piss me off. Jocelyn was a friend of mine, and I couldn't believe the obvious lapse in judgment she'd had. And I had to say something.

After school, I caught Jocelyn as she headed out of the school building, a euphoric smile lighting her face. "Jocelyn!" I exclaimed, waving her over.

Jocelyn bounced my way. "Hey, Madeleine. What's up?"

"You're going out with my brother?" I cut right to the chase, deciding any beating around the bush would just make it harder on both of us.

Jocelyn flushed, the smile on her face faltering. "I'm really sorry, Madeleine, I know I should have asked you. I don't want it to be weird between us or anything just 'cause I'm dating your brother—"

Obviously Jocelyn and I both had opposite concerns. "It won't be weird, I swear," I assured her. She visibly relaxed. "But I have to tell you something about Valentine." I took a deep breath, and let the words pour out in a torrential flood. "He'll hurt you, and he'll hurt everybody. He's not what he seems. I wish I didn't have to tell you this again, but it's different now. Valentine is capable of so much—and if you're with him, you'll get associated with all that! I'm only saying this because I care about you, Jocelyn, and—"

"We've been over this, Madeleine." Jocelyn sounded almost exasperated. "He's so sweet. I don't get how you could say that. He would never hurt me, or anyone..."

"What about his little fan club?" I pressed on. How could Jocelyn not see what was right in front of her, looming over her, threatening her? "They're not what they seem, either. Valentine is building himself a cult—people who will do whatever he wants them to without question. Can't you see? And now you're going to be part of it!"

"Look, Madeleine." I could tell how angry Jocelyn was by the slow creeping flush in her neck and chin, working its way to her cheeks. "I get what you think, but it's both impossible and crazy. I can make my own decisions. Now I have to get going." Jocelyn stalked off, leaving me staring after her.

If she got corrupted, I reminded myself, at least I couldn't say I'd never done anything to try and stop it.

* * *

**title from Goo Goo Dolls' "Sympathy." :) review!**


	6. Black Wedding

**Black Wedding – Jocelyn – 1989**

"Do you, Jocelyn Fairchild, take this man, Valentine Morgenstern, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

I didn't look at the preacher, didn't look at my surroundings, not at all my friends crowded into the front pews. I just stared right at Valentine, his eyes shining black glass. "I do," I nearly whispered.

"And do you, Valentine Morgenstern," the preacher continued in a monotone, "take this woman, Jocelyn Fairchild, to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Valentine squeezed my hands, a small smile dancing across his face, as he answered in a resolute voice, "I do."

The preacher looked from me to Valentine and back before declaring, "I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Valentine Morgenstern. You may kiss the bride."

We met in the middle, Valentine's lips coming toward mine as they had so many times before. I tried not to be too eager, knowing that Luke and all my other friends were there, and instead gave him a soft peck on the lips.

The pews burst into wild applause. Maryse and Robert Lightwood, now married, shared a kiss of their own The others just cheered, Luke cat-calling loudly. I blushed at all the attention, but Valentine seemed to take it in stride. He scooped me into his arms, huge wedding train and everything, and that just made Luke cat-call louder and me blush harder.

"Aren't you supposed to wait until we pass the threshold of our house or something?" I asked him as he carried me back down the aisle.

"Since when have I followed the rules, Mrs. Morgenstern?" Valentine asked me softly. I thrilled to the sound of my new name. Mrs. Jocelyn Morgenstern. It was odd to think of myself as that. I was only eighteen, but I was a married woman now.

When we reached the carriage (yes, carriage—Valentine really had gone all-out), Valentine finally set me down, keeping one of my hands to help me climb up. I awkwardly adjusted my voluminous skirt once in, my gloved hands brushing against Valentine's leg. He reached for me, and I leaned into him as he kissed me. It was deeper, more intimate than the one we'd shared in the church, because we were now alone; a brush fire to the first one's candle. He pulled me into his lap just as the carriage rumbled to life, and I kissed him with everything that I had.

****

**Black Wedding – 1989 – Madeleine**

I watched the wedding party and then the guests exit the church, mingling and laughing. The topic of conversation was the new Mr. and Mrs. Valentine Morgenstern. Every person that spoke was completely thrilled. "I _knew_ Jocelyn and Valentine would get together!" bragged Patrick Penhallow. "They always seemed so perfect."

Jia Xhang, Patrick's girlfriend, rolled her Asian eyes. "That's what they all say, isn't it?" she said shrewdly. Then Patrick and Jia were gone, their speech melting into all the others'.

I had to wonder what I was doing here. Jocelyn and I weren't friends anymore—after I'd tried to warn her, she'd pegged me as an insolent little sister and frigidly ignored me, picking Valentine over me. And of course, Valentine. He never got exactly why I hated him so much, why I was convinced he was bad news. But he didn't know what I'd seen that night. I was only twelve...

I shook the memory away and walked from the church, silent for a change.

* * *

**short but sweet, and end of part one. review!**


	7. Part Two: Whisperer

**Part Two – Whisperer**

"_Whisperer" by VersaEmerge_

_You play my nerves like strings  
__All upside down  
__Try to keep straight  
__My limbs are bonding now  
__(Since a few Aprils ago  
__Endless chase to send it away)  
__Tireless persistence of days_

_With a touch of your words  
__I saw the devil sneak between my fingers  
__(It's much too familiar)  
__With a touch of your words  
__I learned to reverse  
__It's gotten me nowhere_

_A deep shade of horizon gold  
__The constellations remind me I am home  
__We were lit from the west, our silhouettes  
__Yet a sight of industrial-ness  
__As the silence wins over everyone_

_With a touch of your words  
__I saw the devil sneak between my fingers  
__(It's much too familiar)  
__With a touch of your words  
__I learned to reverse  
__It's gotten me nowhere_

_What am I supposed to think about  
__Wandering around inside out  
__(It's gotten me nowhere)  
__Patterns don't feel right  
__Still speaking like you know what I'm about  
__We were lit from the west, our silhouettes  
__Yet a sight of industrial-ness  
__As the silence wins over everyone_

_With a touch of your words  
__I saw the devil sneak between my fingers  
__(It's much too familiar)  
__With a touch of your words  
__I learned to reverse  
__It's gotten me nowhere_

_We were lit from the west, our silhouettes  
__Yet a sight of industrial-ness  
|__As the silence wins over_


	8. Announcements and Superwarriors

**Announcements and Superwarriors – Jocelyn – 1989**

I woke up, the mass of heat that was Valentine's body resting beside mine, and immediately felt the urge to hurl. I ran to the bathroom, hand clapped over my mouth, before I started throwing up into the toilet. The sound of my retching must have awakened Valentine, because then there were hands brushing my hair away from my face, a silken voice whispering in my ear. "It's okay, Jocelyn, you're okay."

When I was done, I buried my face in Valentine's bare shoulder and started sobbing. I hated throwing up. I always had. Valentine wrapped his arms around me, holding me to him, cradling me. He was still murmuring to me as he rocked me back and forth, and I almost smiled at how much he cared about me.

"I'm okay," I managed to gasp a few minutes later. "Must have eaten some bad food last night or something. I smiled weakly up at Valentine, but he didn't seem to buy it.

"Whatever you say," he agreed, helping me to my feet. A wave of nausea racked through me, but I managed to stay upright. Valentine eyed me with concern. "You go right back to bed, Jocelyn," he instructed, walking me back to the room. "You go to sleep. I'll check on you in a little while."

I let him tuck me into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Okay," I murmured. Valentine leaned down, kissing me softly, and then turned out the light and shut the door behind him. I barely heard him whisper, "I love you."

Once he was gone, I sat up, allowing the dizziness to pass, before going straight back to the bathroom attached to our bedroom. I reached for the medicine cabinet, my hand finding what I was looking for. I read the directions carefully, and then took the little plastic cup and pissed into it. When I finished, I put the stick into the cup and waited.

I was only half-surprised when a pink cross showed up. I was pregnant.

I went back to bed, this time falling asleep. When I woke again, it was bright, sunlight streaming through the open window like the song from a singer's mouth. I pulled myself up carefully, remembering the pregnancy test. I had to tell Valentine.

Pulling on my slippers and robe, I padded down the stairs. Valentine sat on a couch facing the window, a cup of coffee in his hand, and he was staring out at the grassy area surrounding my parents' manor house. My parents had since moved out—they'd wanted to downsize, now living full-time in a condominium in Alicante—and they'd generously left the house to Valentine and I. "Good morning, Jocelyn," Valentine greeted without turning around.

"Hi, Valentine," I said, sinking down beside him.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, pulling me closer.

"Well," I replied truthfully. "Um, Valentine, I have to tell you something."

Valentine smiled down at me, for the first time tearing his gaze from the rolling, green hills to stare down at me with glassy eyes. "Yes?"

"I'm pregnant."

"Really?" Valentine's voice was a combination between incredulity and excitement. He set down the coffee cup, looking directly into my eyes. "Is that true?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "I have the pink stick to prove it."

Valentine whooped, a sound I had never heard from him before and doubted I would ever hear again, and stood up, engulfing me in a vast hug. "Oh, Jocelyn, that's great news!" he cried, a grin seeming to stretch endlessly over his angular features. He set me gently back on my feet, his hands running to touch my stomach. He looked at his hands, surrounding our tiny, tiny baby, then at me. "I'm going to be a father," he said, sounding very serious.

"Isn't this great?" I asked rhetorically. "I have to talk to Luke!"

"Lucian is at the Waylands' for the day," Valentine told me. "You may go see him there. But please, Jocelyn, be careful."

I eyed him curiously, but shrugged and smiled. "I'll be back soon, I promise," I told him, running for the door to find my best friend.

****

**Announcements and Superwarriors – Valentine – 1989**

When Jocelyn was gone, I was alone with my thoughts. This unexpected pregnancy provided so many opportunities for me now! The demon blood—which I could not inject on myself—could be given to Jocelyn. She would ingest in and give it to the baby. I could create a superwarrior. Someone who could kill any demon, could wipe the world free of Downworlders and demons alike. I would fight and kill alongside my son when he came of age. It would be magnificent.

I wandered down to my cellars, ignoring the experiments strewn around me, and dug out a leather-bound journal, one of many just like it. I quickly flipped past the records I'd taken of the failed experiments on myself, to a blank page. The cries around me quickly faded back as I wrote, _"Jocelyn is pregnant. I must find a way to obtain blood of a Greater Demon to feed to her, to make our son the greatest Shadowhunter in the world."_

Then I hear a muffled, "Valentine? Valentine?" Jocelyn was home already? Quickly I shut the book, shoving it haphazardly back onto the shelf, and tore up the stairs, excuse in hand. Luckily, Jocelyn had barely entered the front door, and I ran to the kitchen, pretending to pour another cup of coffee. "Oh, there you are!" Jocelyn said, watching me pour the coffee.

"How did Lucian react?" I asked distractedly, only half paying attention to the answer.

"He was so excited," she reported. "Almost as excited as you."

_I bet not_, I thought to myself. But I knew better than to speak, and kept my mouth shut.

* * *

**read my new LJ post and "City of Secrets" by jessxreality. peace.**


	9. The Fear

**hello children! thank you for being so patient. but i'm back now, with a couple chapters. i recommend you check out my fic, "Waking Up on the Other Side," which i've posted some new chapters for, and these two awesome fics called "City of Secrets" by jessxreality and "Hand of Sorrow" by VamptasticVeronica. toodles!**

* * *

**The Fear – Jocelyn – 1989**

Everyone's happy reactions to my pregnancy rang in my ears as I fell asleep that night, drifting away into darkness. Valentine was not in bed yet. He said he had a few things to take care of, things for the Circle, and those I didn't question. So I bunched the covers into my arms and let myself sleep.

Suddenly, there was a noise. A scream. A piercing scream that rang in my ears, reverberating horribly. I wrenched up immediately, eyes widening, as the scream cut off abruptly. The air was silent, but my brain played back the sound over and over like a broken record. The sound of that scream chilled me. I tried to place where it could have come from, _who_ it could have come from, why it was there.

But of course. Something Valentine was doing. _"I have a few things to take care of."_ But what could he be doing that could make something scream such a broken scream? I started piecing together other nights' behavior. Sometimes he went directly to bed with me. Others he head "things to take care of." Could they all have been things like this? As I thought, I fell into a fitful sleep, wondering if Valentine was worth fearing.

When my eyes opened, I had morning sickness again. This time Valentine was not there to tell me everything was all right, to brush my hair off my face as I heaved what little remained in my stomach into the bathroom sink, and for that I was guiltily glad. I had to find Luke. Only he would understand.

I slipped out quietly, hoping Luke was still at the Waylands'. I walked briskly and knocked once, twice on the door. Hilary Wayland, Michael's wife, opened the door. "Good morning, Jocelyn!" she said cheerfully, leaning out the door to peck my cheek. I liked Hilary. She was a sweet woman, and she and Michael deserved each other. "Congratulations on the pregnancy! I'm so sorry I was out yesterday when you came by with the good news!"

"Oh, it's okay," I assured Hilary quickly. "Is Luke still here? I have to talk to him."

"Yes, he is," Hilary told me. "Let me get him. Hold on." She shut the door a little bit, leaving a crack open, as the perky sound of heels on hardwood faded quickly. Luke came to the door a minute later, his eyes heavy with sleep.

"What do you want, Jocelyn? It's ass o'clock in the morning," he complained.

I cracked a smile despite myself at his petulant tone. But then I remembered why I was there, and I sobered quickly. "Luke, we have a huge problem."

"Go on." Luke stepped on the porch beside me, closing the door.

I took a deep breath and my voice came out in a breathy rush. "It's Valentine."

Luke didn't seem fazed. "I figured as much," he acknowledged.

"Last night, I was lying in bed, when I heard this—this _scream_." I shuddered at the memory, vivid and fresh as a not-yet-healed scar. "It was the most horrible sound I've ever heard, Luke. It was just horrible."

"Oh, Jocelyn." Luke's arms opened, and I fell into them, feeling their comfort and familiarity. I didn't cry, though tears stung at my eyes. I wasn't done with my story yet.

When I was ready to continue, I pulled away and took a deep breath. "Something's definitely up with Valentine," I told him. "I don't know what. But, Luke...I'm scared."

****

**The Fear – Valentine – 1989**

I was sitting on a chair in the backyard, a stack of my leather-bound books beside me, when I heard someone approach me. Quickly, I shut the book and looked up. It was Lucian. "What are you doing?" I asked coldly, unhappy about being disrupted.

"I have to talk to you," Lucian said decisively.

"Very well." I put the book in my lap on top of the stack. "Go ahead."

"Jocelyn talked to me this morning," began Lucian. I felt my eyes narrowing. So Jocelyn was the issue. "She told me she'd heard a scream last night. Something she thinks you're doing. She told me she was afraid of you, Valentine. And I want to know what's going on." Lucian looked so firm then. I was proud of him. I had done exceptionally well with him. He was so different from the boy whose door I had knocked on two years ago.

"She's pregnant, Lucian. She's hearing things. It's just the jitters of an expecting woman." I was surprised at how easily I could brush off Lucian's and Jocelyn's fears. "Don't worry. Would I do anything to hurt anyone?"

"No," Lucian answered, although his heart didn't seem to be in the answer as much as his voice was. "Well, okay then. I just wanted to be sure you weren't doing anything I should know about. We're _parabatai_, Valentine, don't forget."

"I wouldn't forget," I assured him. And I meant it. But that didn't stop me from feeling guiltless about my lies.


	10. A Man of Honor

**A Man of Honor – Jocelyn – 1989**

Humming under my breath, I walked the halls aimlessly. A witchlight runestone was clutched in my hand, illuminating the five-AM darkness, the full moon shining through the windows. I'd been doing this a lot lately, just walking, not going anywhere. I didn't know why. Maybe I just really liked the exercise, or maybe the baby liked it. My hands flew to my gently rounded, two-months-pregnant stomach, cupping my child in my hands. "I love you, baby," I whispered to it, not sure if it could hear me.

Then a pounding on our front door sent my heart racing, my breath pounding. I stifled a curse as I made my way there. Who would show up this early in the morning? I muttered incomprehensibly the whole walk there, and then I pulled the door open.

Standing shakily at our doorstep was Luke. I almost gasped out loud. There was a long wound from his temple all the way to the base of his throat, caked with dried blood. His shirt was completely missing, and his pants were in tatters and covered in blood. "Oh, shit," I choked out.

The night after I'd told Luke I was pregnant, the night after I'd heard that terrible scream through the wall, the night I'd confessed my inconsistent fear of my husband, Luke and Valentine had gone on a raid of a werewolf encampment that had broken the Accords. Luke had been bitten. I'd tried to fix it as best as I could, and I'd hoped to God that this bite would defy the odds and not result in lycanthropy. But I knew deep down that my prayers would do no good. Luke would become a werewolf. And now he was on my front step, obviously having Changed the night before. My eyes flicked to the full moon hanging high in the sky, then back to Luke.

"Jocelyn," Luke rasped. He sounded terrible. "Jocelyn, help—"

And then Valentine was behind me. "Lucian?" Valentine's voice was bitingly sharp, acerbic, and furiously incredulous.

"Valentine," exhaled Luke. "Please. Jocelyn, Valentine, help me." He fell to his knees, blood dripping down his face.

I cried out, kneeling beside him, sobs choking out of my chest in shaky breaths. "Luke!" I nearly screamed.

"Jocelyn!" Valentine's sharp gaze turned on me. "The baby!"

Three pairs of eyes moved to my stomach. I touched it tenderly, glaring at Valentine. "What, Luke will kill our child? He's _Luke_, Valentine!"

"I do not know this man. He is a filthy Downworlder in the body of a man we both once called a friend," Valentine said frostily. "Jocelyn, go, before I force you."

I pulled myself to my feet, helping Luke up as I went. I didn't want to leave. I was scared of what Valentine would do to Luke. But I was more scared of what he could do to me. Not only was I responsible for myself, but for my baby as well. So I ran, tears blinding me, praying that Valentine would have mercy.

****

**A Man of Honor – Luke – 1989**

I swallowed hard, watching Jocelyn go. Valentine's gaze was steely, and fixed on me. "Come with me, Lucian," he hissed, his tone chilly and full of loathing. He grabbed my arm, pain from tender bruises blooming up at his touch. He dragged me to one of the few trees in the meadows of the Fairchild estate, pulling me behind it.

The taste of raw meat overwhelming in my mouth, I tried to gasp, "Valentine, I—"

"Lucian Graymark, I do not know you anymore," Valentine told me slowly, fury evident in every syllable he spoke. "You were once a man of honor, and I believe you should have the chance to die like that man I once knew." He deliberately pulled a dagger from his belt, the ruby stone in its hilt glinting in the light of the waning full moon.

I knew what he would say a split second before he said it. "No," I tried to protest.

"Take this dagger, Lucian, and kill yourself. Prove to me that you are still a good man, one that would rather die than let your blood be polluted with such filth. If I find this dagger here later today, I will know that you have done the right thing, and I will make sure you are remembered with good words. But if I don't..." It wasn't necessary for Valentine to finish the threat. His eyes told me what his words didn't. Then he kissed the blade of the dagger and handed it to me. "Go, Lucian." And then he was gone, back toward the manor house.

I stared at the dagger, then at Valentine's retreating figure. Tentatively, I tapped my chest with the blade, testing. But I couldn't do it. I knew Jocelyn was depending on me, that I had to stay. I shoved the dagger into what was left of my pants pocket and fled.


	11. crushcrushcrush

**crushcrushcrush – Jocelyn – 1989**

Valentine came back empty-handed, a sorrowful expression on his face. "Is Luke okay? What's going on?" I demanded wildly the second he reentered my line of sight.

"I'm so sorry, Jocelyn," Valentine began, and the tears started before I even knew what he had to be sorry about. "I tried to reason with him. I tried to convince him to get away, run from Idris, because he was my best friend, and I wanted to have mercy." I heard the past tense—_he _was_ my best friend—_and my breath hitched. "But he wouldn't listen. Jocelyn...he killed himself."

Somehow, I already knew that was what Valentine was going to say, but it didn't stop the pain. It hit me, hard—a million tons of bricks collapsing on me, threatening to crush me to death. I staggered, and Valentine caught me. I sobbed into his shoulder, because even if I didn't trust him, he was the only thing that kept me from being pulverized.

****

**crushcrushcrush – Valentine – 1989-1990**

She stopped speaking.

After she'd cried herself dry, Jocelyn retreated to her room and didn't come out. When I knocked on the door, she didn't respond. She became lifeless, silent, deflated; and I knew I was to blame for all of it. It was a bit painful, knowing how much pain she was in, how much of it I had caused.

But I couldn't allow myself to focus on the negatives. Despite the way the time passed, it did just that. Jocelyn would give birth soon, and the results of my experiment would be revealed. I wanted to see my child, my son, in all his warrior's glory. Even as an infant, I knew that would be apparent.

Five months later, when seeing Jocelyn's face had become a rarity and hearing her voice had become nonexistent, both happened at the same time. She came to me, her clothing soaked, and said in a whipering, rasping voice, "My water broke."

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**sorry! short as hell, i know, and a cliffie at that. i'm going on vacation now, and so i'll see you in two weeks. oh, by the way, in case you didn't know, "crushcrushcrush" = Paramore song. i really wanted to use it.**


	12. Beginnings and Endings

**Beginnings and Endings – Jocelyn – 1990**

"Come on, Jocelyn," said my mom. "You can do it. Just a little more."

I pushed with all my strength, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead in damp tangles. The pain was ridiculous, not at all what I'd expected, and the only thing that kept me going was the fact that once I was done, I could hold my child in my arms.

"I see hair! A head!" my mother cried, excitement but also sympathy alight in her eyes. "Three or four more big pushes. You can do it, honey. Push."

Obediently, I pushed, and cried out in pain. Surely the baby had to be out now. My heart was racing like I'd just run a marathon, and the pain was dominating every other feeling. "Is it out?" I gasped.

My mother winced. "Not yet, Joce. But I can see the head. The hair is blonde, baby. Just like Valentine's."

Oh, great. What an incentive to keep me going; my baby was a Valentine-clone. But I pushed and pushed, and the pain built and washed over me, and then suddenly three things happened at once. My mom breathed out, a short exhale. Something inside of me felt different. And then a piercing, shrill screech pierced the calm.

"It's a boy," my mom breathed. I looked at her, and she was cradling a red, wrinkly, fair-haired thing in her arms.

"Give him..." I paused to catch my breath. "Give him to me." My mother placed the baby in my arms, and I closed my eyes. The warmth of my son filled my body, and all I could think about was how perfectly he fit into my arms, and how long I had waited for this moment. I opened my eyes and stared down at the child I cradled. His eyelids were closed, but as I looked at him, he, too, opened his eyes.

They were such a flat and fathomless black that they looked like the tar that filled the cracks in the street. But as my child stared up at me with asphalt eyes, a burning sensation started in my chest and licked outward, leaving me feeling charred and absolutely horrified. This—this wasn't a baby. It was a _monster_, a _thing_. And it had come out of me.

I nearly dropped him, suppressing a scream. If I could think of anything else, it was that I wasn't supposed to be feeling like this about my baby, that I should be looking down at his empty eyes with love. So I swallowed my fear and pasted a grin as blank as the eyes of the bundle in my arms onto my face as I glanced back up at my mother. "He's beautiful," I lied. "He's perfect." Then, not a lie: "He looks like Valentine."

****

**Beginnings and Endings – Katherine – 1990**

I was shocked to see the horror that crossed Jocelyn's face, looking down at her son for the first time. Had I done that to Jocelyn, staring down at her at the scene of her birth, looking as if someone had switched my real daughter with a demon as vile as the ones we killed? But the look was so fleeting that I had to pretend like I didn't notice it. She was smiling now, anyway. To distract us, I asked, "What will you name him?"

A new voice answered me. "His name is Jonathan," Valentine said, coming into the room. "Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. He's perfect."

"Jonathan," echoed Jocelyn. She looked once again at baby Jonathan, and smiled tiredly at Valentine. "It fits."

"May I hold him?" asked Valentine, reaching for Jocelyn and Jonathan.

"Of course." Jocelyn held her son at arm's length for Valentine to take, then sank back onto her pillows, eyes closing in exhaustion. I turned my gaze to Valentine, watching as he incoherently cooed to the child. It was odd to see a big man like him soften to babies, and it made me like him even more.

"Congratulations, Katherine." Valentine turned to me, cradling Jonathan, a half-smile on his lips. "Your first grandchild."

"You're the one who deserves the congratulations," I replied, smiling at my son-in-law. "He's your firstborn. I couldn't be happier for you and Jocelyn." But I couldn't forget that look on Jocelyn's face—a look of pure and total horror—and wondered to myself if I was lying as I said that. Nothing seemed clear to me. But I decided to pretend; Jocelyn and Valentine were euphoric at Jonathan's birth, their firstborn son, and nothing could stand in the way. No look on Jocelyn's face, pale from the birth, could hinder her love for her baby.

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**hi guys! sorry this update was a long time coming...but fanfiction was being a butt, so i couldn't post. oh, and if nikkiRA is reading this, i tried to review "Pulled" but it wouldn't let me, so i just have to say it's very epic. okay, bye!**


	13. It's Always Bittersweet

**It's Always Bittersweet – Jocelyn – 1990**

In the last six days, I'd slept approximately that many hours. Not because Jonathan was loud, which was something I'd prepared myself for, but because he was so damn quiet. Babies were supposed to scream and cry, right? Well, not Jonathan. He was silent, sleeping through the nights already, and it scared me. I became an insomniac, while Valentine slept peacefully beside me.

Valentine was the only one who knew about the Jonathan issue. I hadn't wanted to tell him, but he'd coaxed it out of me. And he was horrified with me, like I was with our son. "You're sick, Jocelyn," he'd said, "and you're not thinking straight. When your...illness clears up, you will see him for the beautiful child that he is. Aren't you," he cooed to Jonathan. Because, of course, Valentine loved Jonathan. He was the son Valentine had been hoping for ever since the moment I'd told him I was pregnant. And he couldn't understand how I couldn't feel the same.

So I had begun staying up late at night, completely loathing myself, because I knew Valentine was right. I _was_ sick. A mother who hated her child. And as I thought, and loathed, I realized how downhill my life really had gone. I'd once been a blushing bride, surrounded by friends. Now, I was a monster, utterly alone, her best friend dead by his own hand, her husband a monster too—but not as bad as she was. With this realization came more thoughts, thoughts of suicide. Thoughts of how much easier it would be to escape it all. But I was too much of a coward to ever go through with something that final. Killing myself was something I just wasn't strong enough for.

Instead of staying in bed this night, I went to the great room, where the embers of a fire once lit and dancing remained in the fireplace. I stared at the burning wood, the slight red glow, tears springing to my eyes. How could my life have been so perfect before, then in the blink of an eye go so wrong? In the time since Luke's death, nothing good had happened to me. I pitied myself, and hated myself.

All of a sudden, the glowing remnants in the fireplace sprang to life, the temperature change tangible as the flames shot up from the burnt logs. I started, my heart pounding. Where had that come from? And as I watched the fire, dying down as quickly as it had started back up, something sat among the flames. It was a piece of paper. A fire-letter.

Only warlocks could send fire-letters; I wondered what a warlock wanted to talk to me about, especially at such a late hour. I gingerly reached among the charred wood, the embers glowing merrily around my hand, and picked up the fire-letter. Of course, it was cool to the touch, because fire-letters didn't change temperature even among the hottest of blazes, but I was cautious anyway. Carefully, I unfolded the sealed letter and read:

_J—I have received word that Lucian Graymark is now the leader of a pack of lycanthropes in Brocelind Forest, near the eastern border of Idris. By telling you Lucian had killed himself, your husband lied to you. I thought you might want to know. —Ragnor Fell_

Ragnor Fell? He was a warlock that had been a close family friend. For generations, he had always been there for a Fairchild in need of a healing spell or a Portal, that sort of thing. But more than the sender of the letter was the content. Luke was alive? Valentine had lied to me? But how could Valentine lie to me about something like that, something so serious? Had he not seen what had happened afterward?

I had no choice but to take Ragnor's word for it. So, there in the middle of the night in a silent house, I slipped away to Brocelind Forest to find my dead best friend.

****

**It's Always Bittersweet – Luke – 1990**

"Master," said a voice in my ear. The voice was a soft, unalarming whisper, but still I bolted upright.

"What the—?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Master, but there is a girl here to see you. One of the Nephilim." My eyes adjusted to the darkness, but now I could see Liane, my new second, outlined against the blackness. "Should I let her come see you?"

"A Shadowhunter?" All of the Nephilim I knew thought I was dead, I was sure. And if it were any other day, I would've thought it was... "Does she have red hair? Is she pregnant?" I demanded wildly.

Liane looked taken aback. "Yes, she has red hair. But she isn't pregnant. Do you know her?"

She must have had the baby, then. "I think I do," I responded. "Send her over."

I acted surprised, though I wasn't, when Jocelyn showed up. "Luke!" she cried, flinging herself to her knees and throwing her arms around me. "Oh, Luke!" Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her warmth. Liane, God bless her, saw this reunion and retreated, back to her post where she kept our encampment safe. Jocelyn buried her face into my shoulder, and I felt tears soak my shirt. "I thought you were dead," she whispered.

"I know," I said soothingly. "I'm so sorry."

Jocelyn pulled away. "I don't even know what to say," she laughed through tears.

"How did you find me?" I asked.

"I just got a fire-letter from Ragnor Fell. You know, that warlock that always helps out my family?" I nodded, recalling. "He said he'd gotten word that you were the leader of a pack out here. So I came to find you."

"Oh my God, Jocelyn," I said, an admonishing tone to my voice. "You came out all the way here all by yourself? And where's the letter? You know, if Valentine finds it..."

"He won't," Jocelyn assured me. "I have it right here, and I plan to burn it when I get home. But Luke, I have so much to tell you..."

"You can't." Jocelyn's face fell, crestfallen, and I felt bad. "What I mean is, dawn is coming. Valentine will wake up soon, and he'll freak if you're gone. You better get back to the house. I promise you, we'll find another way to catch up. But start going home. And burn that letter." I brushed a strand of red hair away from her pale face. "Don't tell anyone I'm alive, you hear me?"

"I know," she replied. "I'll come find you some other time."

"Don't. I'll find you," I corrected.

"I love you, Luke," she said quietly. Then, in an unprecedented move, she leaned in and gently kissed my cheek. Her lips were soft and tickled my dirty, unshaven skin. It couldn't have been pleasant, but she did it anyway.

And then Jocelyn was gone, running, back to fake her old life. I watched her go, my hand absently rubbing the spot on my cheek where her angel's lips had touched it.

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**dancing while typing! go look up "Hello Hello" by Paramore, and you'll dance too! btw, "it's always bittersweet" is a line from "Hush" by Automatic Loveletter. good song.**


	14. Everything's All Right

**Everything's All Right – Jocelyn – 1990**

I was shocked that I was able to sneak into the house without waking Valentine or Jonathan. The first lights of dawn were climbing into the sky, and I quickly created an alibi as I lit a fire in the now-dormant fireplace. I couldn't sleep, so I came down and lit a fire. Which seemed innocent enough, and was also partially true, a win-win situation.

After seeing Luke, I felt better. Stronger. Less suicidal. I made up my mind to make the best of this situation I'd found myself stuck in, and try and love my son. Maybe that was the problem, maybe I hadn't tried. And maybe if I did try, it would work, and somehow all my problems could be solved.

Valentine, Jonathan in his arms, came down about six to find me staring at the blaze, the remnants of a letter burning in it. "Good morning, Jocelyn," he said, sounding slightly surprised.

"Oh, good morning, Valentine," I said breezily. The letter was completely burned now. Valentine would never know.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, a question I'd known was coming.

"I couldn't sleep," I recited. "I keep waiting for Jonathan to cry. So I came down here and lit a fire."

I held my breath for a long moment, but to my relief, Valentine seemed to buy it. "Oh. Are you all right now?"

"I'm fine. Just a little tired." Which was true. I'd just run all over Idris finding my supposedly dead best friend. The one I'd been lied to about. Huh.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" Valentine asked, concern in his voice.

"No, I probably wouldn't be able to." Then I remembered my promise to myself, and asked, "Can I hold Jonathan?"

If Valentine had looked surprised before, he looked shocked now. "You want to hold him?" he asked, disbelief plain on his face.

"He's my son, too," I pointed out. Without a word, Valentine passed the child to me.

Jonathan was asleep, hiding the tunnels of his eyes. As I looked at him, suppressing the acidic feeling that crept through me, I tried to see his beauty. And in a way, he was beautiful. He was what I suspected Valentine looked like as a child, pale-skinned and fair-haired. His and Valentine's hair colors were identical. I slowly rocked Jonathan, and the movement wakened him. He didn't cry, of course, but he opened his asphalt eyes. I shuddered minutely, not letting the inevitable horror take control. "He's so beautiful," I remarked.

"Yes," Valentine agreed, looking at me carefully.

"So," I said brightly, "would you like some breakfast?" I was still rocking Jonathan in my arms—I could feel his weight like I was holding a barrel of toxic waste—and I tried to make the movement seem absentminded.

"That sounds good," Valentine said slowly. "I'm going to make you some tea. Let me go grab the tea bags from the basement."

I think that at that moment, Valentine truly did believe that I'd gotten over whatever it was, and had found a way to love Jonathan. I think I may have even believed it myself.

****

**Everything's All Right – Hilary – 1990**

A knock sounded at the door, and I stood up cautiously. I was in that stage of pregnancy where every move had to be gentle, where every part of my body was sore. Luckily, Michael jumped to my rescue. "I'll get it, Hil," he assured me, opening the door. "Jocelyn! Hi! It's been a while!"

I was already on my feet, and I moved gingerly to stand by Michael and Jocelyn at the door. "Hey, Jocelyn!" I exclaimed. It had been so long since I'd seen her, before Luke had died. Maybe that was why she had been gone so long. Then I saw the baby in her arms. "Oh!"

"I came by to introduce you two to Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern." Jocelyn smiled at me. The child was beautiful. He had a wisp of light blonde hair, the exact shade as his father's, and dark eyes that shone like black glass.

"He's beautiful," I told her honestly. "Can I hold him?"

"Hilary..." Michael trailed off.

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "Better get the practice in."

Jocelyn held her arms out, Jonathan in them, and she lowered him carefully into my arms. Pain like a pressed bruise bloomed up in my lower back, but I ignored it. "When are you due?" asked Jocelyn.

"Next month," I told her. I bent my face to Jonathan's, cooing at him. I couldn't wait to have my own child, to be able to hold a baby in my arms just like this, except that the baby would be my own. Mine and Michael's. I smiled up at my husband, suddenly full of love, and he grinned back, watching as I rocked Jocelyn and Valentine's child in my arms. Our turn was coming.

* * *

**hi guys! this chapter isn't really much of anything except filler. the next chapter is REALLY good, i have to say. while you wait for it, i suggest going to paramore . net and looking up the "Ignorance" video. it is SO amazing. thank you to callmefall for reviewing every single chapter. 33333 to you!**


	15. Whisperer

**side note: this is my BEST. CHAPTER. EVER.**

------------------------

**Whisperer – Jocelyn – 1990**

I was actually able to sleep that night, after seeing Luke. Talking to Michael and Hilary Wayland had made it easier, too; it'd felt normal. Valentine was out, at a meeting for the Circle, and so I was alone in the huge bed, which made the sleep that had evaded me for the last week easier to find. But I was jarred awake by the sound of a baby crying.

I froze. Was that..._Jonathan_? But Jonathan never cried. It couldn't be him, could it? Unsure, I stood up, nearly running to the nursery. Jonathan was sound asleep in his crib; definitely not the source. The crying, however, continued. I followed the sound, tearing down the steps. I went near every door, listening, before I found the correct door. It was the locked door of the old, unused wine cellar. At least, I thought it was unused.

I remembered where my father kept the key, where Luke and I had found it and used it to sneak booze, seemingly so long ago. Just thinking of Luke gave me a burst of energy, and I reached high to the tallest shelf, removing the porcelain vase, and tipped the key into my hand. The doorknob stuck when I tried it, but I was able to get in with a strong push.

The crying wasn't so much crying as wailing now as I picked my way down the stairs. As I passed a certain point, an overwhelming smell hit me. It smelled like rotting flesh and death, and was tanged with the metallic scent of blood. My stomach heaved, but the wailing didn't cease, so I pushed on. And that's when I saw everything.

Cells and cages were everywhere, _things_ trapped inside. There were demons, or what looked like demons, chained to the walls of their cells, making horrible, sickening sounds, unforgettable sounds. But beyond that were so many Downworlders, imprisoned in cages. I saw a werewolf—just a child, really, no more than twelve or thirteen—with her body coated in silver powder. She was screaming, the source of the wailing I had heard. There was a vampire chained to the cage's bars; the chains must have been blessed or inscribed with runes because his wrists were charred, his hands blackened and sizzling in low tones. Unlike the lycanthrope girl, though, he was silent. A faery lay on the floor of a cell, naked except for thick bands of cold iron wrapped around his wrists, neck, and ankles. He was writhing around on the floor in silence, soundless thrashing, but obvious agony.

A roaring sound came into my ears, and my vision suddenly tunneled. I was sure I was going to pass out, so I sank to the floor and put my head between my knees. When the dizziness passed, I stood up again. This time, I neared the cage of a vampire sitting waist-deep in holy water. I couldn't look, because then I probably would pass out. Instead, I looked at a leather-bound book that was sitting on top of the cage. Averting my eyes from the dying vampire, I looked down at the words Valentine had written. "_The skin regenerates all at once, rather than in stages as I had hypothesized. It took a total of three minutes and twenty-six seconds this time, but I will put the vampire in for the whole night this time and see if it takes longer."_

I almost started hyperventilating. It was all so horrible. Valentine was torturing these defenseless Downworlders, torturing them just to see what would happen. I felt sick, but moved onto another cage. This one had two faeries in it, chained together with iron cuffs. Both of them were unconscious, and I prayed to God they weren't in pain. I read the ledger book Valentine had left, and saw that he was seeing how long it took for the iron to eat away at their skin and bones, detaching their hands from their bodies. I read each set of notes, feeling sicker and sicker, and realized what was happening. Valentine was losing his mind.

There was a desk wedged in a corner, with another leather-bound book on top of it. Curious, yet horrified, I went to read it. The first page was in Latin, a language which I was supposed to have learned years ago at the JSI but never had. I turned the page rapidly, and read: _"Demonic blood, especially that of a Greater Demon, is a powerful stimulant to the __Nephilim's already great powers. If injected, the blood will make the Nephilim in question stronger than others, more powerful. I will obtain it somehow."_ Later, _"I have injected the Greater Demon blood into my bloodstream, but all it has accomplished is making me ill. I believe that I am too old for the blood to take true effect. Like the effects of the Mortal Cup, the blood will only work on children, preferably the unborn."_

Shocked speechless, I darted my eyes to the next page. On the top there was a heading. _Jocelyn Morgenstern._ I started to shake, thinking, _Oh my God, oh my God_ over and over. But I forced myself to read, forced myself to find out what Valentine had tried on me. _"Jocelyn is pregnant. I must find a way to obtain blood of a Greater Demon to feed to her, to make our son the greatest Shadowhunter in the world."_

Oh my God. Oh no, oh no. Not my son. Oh my God. I'd known something was wrong with him, but this. This was unconceivable, so terrible...a father doing that to his own son. But, as horrified as I was, I had to keep reading. I had to.

_"I have finally gotten the blood I need, enough to keep feeding Jocelyn throughout the pregnancy. I will find a way to make it into an edible mixture, testing it on myself if necessary."_

_"Jocelyn ingested the mixture for the first time tonight. I watched, and she seemed to be able to keep it down. She was not suspicious. I am certain it will work."_

_"Jocelyn drank the mixture again tonight. No visible changes in her, but again it is the child that concerns me. With regular infusions of demonic ichor such as I have been giving her, the child may be capable of any feats."_

_"After drinking the mixture again tonight, Jocelyn seemed upset. Not angry so much as just down, sad. I hope that it has not been affecting her too badly. Its effects aren't intended for her."_

_"Last night I heard the child's heart beat, more strongly than any human heart, the sound like a mighty bell, tolling the beginning of a new generation of Shadowhunters, the blood of angels and demons mixed to produce powers beyond any previously imagined possible. No longer will the powers of Downworlders be the greatest on this earth."_

It was sickening. It was horrible. It made me want to gag. And yet, I kept reading, the words burning into my brain like permanent runes, where I knew they would stay forever. I would never be able to forget what I'd seen tonight.

****

**Whisperer – Valentine – 1990**

When I arrived home, it was late. Jocelyn was asleep, curled into a ball. I'd never seen her sleep like that. But it was no matter. Maybe it was the angel blood I'd slipped into her tea, affecting her sleep habits. She had been sleepless lately. It was good for her, I told myself. I'd seen what I'd did to her over Jonathan, and I would not let that be repeated.

* * *


	16. Part Three: Justice and Mercy

**Part Three – Justice and Mercy**

"_Justice and Mercy" by Flyleaf_

_We can't be oblivious, we are not ignorant  
__Blood in our hearts, blood on our hands  
__We're human, we reason  
__We're breathing, protecting  
__The living and dying  
__Surviving, we're trying  
__To live in safety, come home safely_

_Mercy screams its violent love  
__Justice and mercy, justice and mercy  
__The death of us created for  
__Justice and mercy, justice and mercy  
__This is where they kiss_

_Life here sacrificed, someone who paid the price  
__Blood in our hearts, blood on our hands  
__We cry out, we're fighting  
__It's worth it, we're dying  
__Believe me, we're winning  
__It's ending, we're singing  
__It's already done, we've overcome_

_Mercy screams its violent love  
__Justice and mercy, justice and mercy  
__The death of us created for  
__Justice and mercy, justice and mercy  
__This is where they kiss_

_With a life on the line (the fire)  
__That consumes or refines (the fire)  
__To ascend or decline  
__To retreat or to climb  
__Out of sight, out of mind  
__Till attacked from behind  
__Will this fire consume or refine_

_Mercy screams its violent love  
__Justice and mercy, justice and mercy  
__The death of us created for  
__Justice and mercy, justice and mercy  
__This is where they kiss_


	17. Wide Awake

**Wide Awake – Jocelyn – 1990**

I woke up in the middle of the night with my body curled into a ball and Valentine resting beside me. I wondered what time he'd gotten home. And then, suddenly, a wave of nausea grabbed me. I ran to the bathroom and heaved. _Shit_, I thought. I didn't want Valentine to wake up and find me like this.

There were leftover pregnancy tests in the medicine cabinet, and I reached for one. A cup of piss later, I found out. I was pregnant again. I disposed quickly of the evidence. I would not tell Valentine I was pregnant. After I learned of what he'd done to Jonathan...I wouldn't let him do that again to my second child.

I climbed back into bed, wondering how I could conceal my pregnancy from Valentine. And I did have to conceal it. The words rang through my head—_"I must find a way to obtain blood of a Greater Demon to feed to her"_—and I felt the overwhelming urge to hurl again. I breathed deeply in and out through my mouth, and the nausea passed. But I was edgy, tense, and obviously not about to go back to sleep.

I knew what was going to happen next, why I wouldn't leave Valentine right this second and never come back. I would have to stop the Uprising. There was lots of talk of the Uprising happening, rumors swirling around the Circle's population. I, of course, had not been included in this conversation, but I knew enough. Valentine and the rest of the Circle was planning to rise against the Clave and the Downworlders at the signing of the Accords. But after reading Valentine's books, I realized that wasn't exactly the truth. They were going to slaughter the Downworlders. They would be defenseless, no match for the armed and prepared Nephilim. And I had to stop this from happening. But I couldn't do it alone. I needed Luke.

And even if I wasn't going to stay for that, I was going to stay for my baby. The tiny child I was carrying, even if it was Valentine's, required protection. If Valentine knew, he would use my second child as an experiment, as a sick game. He'd feed it more demon blood, or worse, and I would kill Valentine myself before I let that happen. _I won't let him hurt you_, was my silent assurance.

Somehow I had to contact Luke. But not right now. Now I just wanted to go back to sleep. But unfortunately, at this point I was wide, wide awake.

****

**Wide Awake – Céline – 1990**

When I arrived at Maryse's house, Jocelyn had already arrived. She and Maryse were chatting amiably, their sons playing together in front of them. It was easy to tell whose child was whose—Maryse's son Alec looked exactly like his father, raven-haired and blue-eyed, while Jocelyn's son Jonathan looked exactly like Valentine, with a shock of white-blonde hair and black eyes. I hoped my child would look like Stephen, gold all over.

"Hello, Céline," called Maryse. Jocelyn looked up and smiled at me in greeting.

"Hi Maryse. Hello, Jocelyn," I greeted them. I went over to sit in the chair pulled up by Jocelyn and for a few moments looked at the children, babbling incoherently and crawling around the floor. Jonathan's movements were swift and lithe for a child's; he obviously took after Valentine there.

"How are you and Stephen doing?" Maryse asked conversationally.

"Oh, we're doing well," I responded. Then I looked over at Jocelyn and said, "Your husband is so kind, Jocelyn. He is so concerned about Stephen and me. He gives me potions and mixtures for the health of the baby; they are wonderful."

Surprisingly, Jocelyn's face leached of color. Her hair looked stark red against her now-white cheeks. I furrowed my brows in confusion. I would have thought Jocelyn would have been happy about this. But she just said, "He gave me things too," in a tight voice.

I looked over to Maryse for clarification, but she seemed just as puzzled as me. I said, "I can see that they worked."

Jocelyn looked straight at me. Her moss-green eyes seemed to bore holes in my skull. "They did. The damn potions definitely worked."

* * *

**guess who finally updated! *points to self proudly* sorry this came late. everyone check out my LJ (link on my profile...click homepage) and read this kick-ass non-fanfic that i wrote. after reviewing this chapter, of course. XD**


	18. Secrets and Lies

**Secrets and Lies – Jocelyn – 1990**

"Luke!" I whisper-shouted. I wasn't able to be too loud, but that didn't deter my excitement. It was my first time seeing him since the reunion right after I'd had Jonathan, and I had so much more to tell him. But I'd made up my mind I wouldn't tell him about Jonathan being part demon. That would drive Luke over the edge for sure, and I couldn't leave him with that sort of anger. He'd try and kill Valentine himself, and just get killed for sure.

"Jocelyn! Jocelyn, oh my God!" Luke's voice was identical to mine as he threw his arms open and I ran into them. I'd missed him so much! We stood in an embrace for a few long seconds that I wished could have been longer before he pulled back, holding me at arm's length. "Are you okay?" The initial happiness at seeing me had worn off, and now he was concerned. Of course he was. Finally finding a way to contact him, I'd sent a message to him saying I needed to see him as soon as I possibly could, that it was urgent. He'd told me his location, and I'd come once again in the middle of the night to find him.

"I'm fine. But there's a huge problem." And then I told him the whole story, subtracting only Jonathan's demonic blood. I told him about Jonathan's birth, how he never cried, and about how I'd found Valentine's torture chamber. I told him my conclusions that Valentine was going insane, really was losing his mind. I told him about my realization of what the Uprising really was and what I wanted to do about it. And then I asked him to help me.

"Oh, Joce." Luke looked at me softly. "I am so sorry you had to see that."

"And one more thing," I added. I softened my voice. "Luke, I'm pregnant again. And I won't have my second child under Valentine's influence like Jonathan must be."

Luke didn't speak, he just shook his head. After a few moments that dragged by, Luke finally said, "I'll help you, Jocelyn. Just tell me where you need me."

"I've been thinking," I began. "We have to bind Shadowhunters to Downworlders. There's no other way to make this work. Valentine doesn't think there will be any resistance on the Downworlders' part. He thinks they'll just collapse, which will probably happen if we don't do anything. I know there are about fifty to a hundred Shadowhunters on Valentine's side, that will be fighting in the Uprising, to the maybe thirty or thirty-five Downworlders. Those numbers favor the Nephilim. But if we do something, we can change that. Make the numbers favor the Downworlders. But we have to assemble hundreds of Downworlders. We have to catch Valentine off guard. He's expecting the Uprising to be an easy battle. We have to stop it, Luke. I feel like I have to."

"It's not up to you," Luke said gently. "You don't have to do this."

"I do," I vowed. "I have to." It was my only penance for have fallen prey to Valentine's trap. I had loved him. I had married him. I had had his child, and was about to have another one. I had to pay for everything I had done.

"If it means a lot to you," Luke said thoughtfully.

"It does. I don't have a choice. Morally, at least, I don't. I have to do this."

****

**Secrets and Lies – Luke – 1990**

Jocelyn and I planned, and we planned well. We planned every aspect of the anti-Uprising, as we had grown to call it. I was the head of assembling the troops, so to speak—I sent messages to every lycanthrope pack leader I knew, every faery court Queen or King, the most powerful warlocks, even the leaders of the Night Children. I asked for their help, explaining what Valentine planned to do in the Accords hall in just weeks, and waited, slightly impatiently, for their responses.

Luck was on our side; many of the Downworlders responded yes. But some, mostly vampires, wanted no part of what they believed was a Nephilim conflict. I was surprised at their ignorance. Couldn't they see how much this involved them? But Jocelyn and I had so many other fighters on our side; we could destroy Valentine for sure.

* * *

**sorry about my crappish posting. i've been hella busy with school. i'l try and post more often, but i make no guarantees.**


	19. Paranoia

**Paranoia – Jocelyn – 1991**

The news reached Valentine and I at nearly the same moment. Stephen and Céline Herondale were dead. Stephen had died the day before, killed in a raid, and when Céline heard the news, she took her own life. She was eight months pregnant, and she had killed her own child along with herself. Hodge Starkweather had found her body, and sent immediate word to Valentine.

"Be back," Valentine said, absently kissing my cheek. I felt guilty as he did this. He had no idea what I was doing, my plans of betrayal. Because when people love you, they trust you.

Valentine slipped out, and I was able to exhale. The guilt was mixed with an equal part of paranoia. I was absolutely scared to death that Valentine would somehow learn of my plans and punish me. Torture me. I doubted I could withstand torture; I was barely able to able to withstand being in labor with Jonathan. I didn't like pain.

But maybe Ragnor Fell could help me. He could make me some kind of potion. He had always helped a Fairchild in need...

I had to see him. But what if Valentine returned before I did? I jotted down a quick note—_V, I'm out, be back before dark, J—_without a second thought, and slipped out the door.

I found Ragnor's house quickly. It wasn't too far out from ours, maybe three miles or so, and the walk was actually nice. The midwinter weather was mild today, warm for early January. The ground was coated with a gray slush, seemingly solid at sight but dissolving to water at touch. I was glad to have worn boots.

When I reached Fell's, I knocked once, briskly, on the door. "It's Jocelyn," I called. The door came open almost immediately.

"Jocelyn," said Ragnor. He was a short man, maybe five-five or five-six at most, with curls of auburn hair and yellow catlike eyes. He smiled.

"I need your help," I said, cutting right to the chase. And I told him everything. He already knew about the anti-Uprising—he was planning to fight in it—but he needed to know about my paranoid fear of torture, and what I wanted him to do. "Is there anything you can do?" I asked when I was finished with my story.

Ragnor bit his lip. "I think there might be. One minute. Come on in." I followed him into the house, shutting the door behind us, and watched as he shuffled through the comically tall bookshelves stacked with different spellbooks. "No...no...no...ah, here it is." He took a thick black book from the middle shelf. The Latin writing on the cover proclaimed it to be the Book of the White.

"There's a spell in here," he told me, flipping through the pages, "that will put you into a deep sleep. Then there is an antidote. You will probably have to entrust it to one person. The antidote will wake you up. If Valentine is coming, you can take the potion and you will almost immediately pass out. He won't be able to get any information from you, and if I'm thinking right, then he won't kill you, either."

"Wow," I said. "Thanks."

"Here we go." Ragnor pointed to a spell. "This spell. And here's the antidote. Maybe you should write it down."

My mind was racing. Who would I give the antidote to? I thought of Luke right away. But I knew I couldn't. He would hate the idea of a potion, hate that I was putting that into me just to evade torture. He would try to convince me that Valentine would never try and torture me, that it wouldn't come to that. But I was unable to be convinced. Maybe it would.

Then I thought of someone else. Someone from my past. Someone that I hadn't spoken to in three or four years. Someone who hated Valentine as much as I did, maybe even more. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of her sooner.

****

**Paranoia – Madeleine – 1991**

_Dear Madeleine,_

_I know we haven't exactly left each other on the best of terms. I know it's been a long time. I'm so sorry for everything that happened between us, because it was my fault. I hope that you can forgive me, and even if you can't, I hope you can put that aside and just listen to me, because it's important._

_You were right. Valentine is a monster, a murderer. He and the Circle are planning what they're calling the Uprising. They are going to attack at the signing of the Accords and kill every single Downworlder there. I, along with Luke Graymark, plan to stop him. But I'm scared that Valentine will discover my plans and try to torture the truth out of me. I don't think I'll be able to hold up very long against torture._

_So I went to a warlock, Ragnor Fell, and he gave me a potion that will put me into a deep sleep where Valentine can't get any information from me. He told me to give the antidote to someone who I could trust. And I think I can trust you. I'm giving it to you. If you hear that I am unconscious somewhere, and I know you will, I'm counting on you to come revive me. But only when it's clear to do so. If there is any chance Valentine will be able to get to me, it would be safer for me to stay unconscious. Use good judgment._

_I don't want you to write back, because there is a chance that Valentine will intercept it. But know that I'm assuming that you agree and understand, that you will help me. This helps me so much, Madeleine. You don't even know how much this helps .Thank you._

_All the best,  
__Jocelyn Morgenstern_


	20. AN: Sorry

Hey, everyone. I'm sorry it's been a long time since I updated this or any of my stories. But I think it's time for something.

As of today, September 19, 2009, I'm going on an indefinite hiatus from fanfiction. For a few reasons. I've lost my motivation, and sophomore year is a *lot* harder than freshman year—more homework. I can't seem to write anything good. I'm sure I'm letting some of you down, and I'm sorry. I don't know when I'll be back, but I just need a little break.

Thanks for understanding.

Miranda


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